


Peacocks

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [16]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF, The Hobbit RPF
Genre: AU, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:42:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Beguilement AU but can stand completely on its own.  Karl is a high-end escort based out of Amsterdam, part of a stable of talent run by Elijah and Dom.  He's not necessarily the brightest horse in the barn, but he projects their brand capably and gets the job done.  On this occasion, he is booked to accompany a hetero couple for an evening out, and then in.  WARNING: We've got a girl in the story so be forewarned that the c-word will rear its nasty head.</p><p>Appreciation: Thanks to the amazing Tweedle_ for the beta, and to the equally talented Stormatdusk for the fabulous banner that accompanies this story over on LJ <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/81693.html">here</a>.</p><p>Disclaimer: There is no way on earth this is true.</p><p>Feedback: Always welcomed.  Always.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peacocks

It's not every day that Karl gets flown to London to strut his inner peacock.

It starts ten days before with a phone call from Dom. "What's your weekend schedule like for the 9th?" he's asked.

Karl makes like he's checking his iPhone or rolodex or whatever. "Seems open. At the moment." Always build a sense of urgency.

"Excellent. How do you feel about attending a gallery showing at the Tate Modern, escorting a lady to a dinner party, probably a threesome with her friend after that? All expenses, including a night at The Connaught."

Beyond the Dorchester and the Savoy, Karl knows nothing about London hotels. "Nice place?" he asks.

Dom doesn't answer for a second. "Google it. And google the Tate Modern while you're at it. Not the Tate. The Tate _Modern_. You need to do some homework for this one. This is class with a capital 'K.' You got it?"

"Don't worry about me," Karl says. "My ass is class. They won't know what hit them."

*

"His problem is that little worm he calls his prick," Cate says as she opens her hotel door and quickly waves Karl into the room while she continues her phone call. "If he had anything of worth down there, he wouldn't need to prance around flashing _my money."_

Everything in Karl wants to wince at this overheard affront to some poor bastard's masculinity, quite possibly the ex in this instance, judging from the vitriol. It's one thing to commiserate with the guys about a bloke's runty dick, but coming out of the mouth of a glossy dame like the one in front of him, that just hurts. However, four big figures are riding on tonight's romance, so the wince gets translated into a quickly arched brow before it's tucked away, much like his hands in his tuxedo pockets. He parks himself in the suite's foyer imparting the air of a man whose appendage would never suffer a similar insult, looking mildly bemused while his date finishes her call.

"Cal, is it?" Cate asks after she has rung off, slipping her mobile into her evening bag on the side table and extending a hand.

"Karl," he replies, bringing her hand to his lips while his eyes lock on hers.

"Oooo," Cate squirms happily. "We're off to a good start. Zip me, would you?" She turns, offering him the long curved line of her pale and polished back. She's swathed in silver sequins, her blonde hair cut sharp and short and pinned off her forehead like a school girl by a barrette that probably has cost thousands. Compliments of her low-cut zipper, Karl can see that the only thing she's wearing under her floor-length frock is a ton of sass. 

He steps close so that she can feel the ruffle of his breath, and makes sure to use his softest, slowest hands, one expertly placed low on her waist to hold the fabric, the other creeping glacially upwards to the back of her neck. She smells awfully good – something crisp and Spring-like.

"Thank you," Cate breathes over her shoulder when he's done. She lets that hang for a second, just enough for Karl to wonder if he's supposed to make a move or something, before she turns to him with a broad smile and says, "Now let me look at you."

Karl takes a step back and spins on his heel a hundred and eighty degrees and then back, hands still buried in his pockets. He arches a questioning brow. 

"I think you'll do fine," Cate smiles. "That mouthy little Dominic _never_ disappoints." 

"Good call," Karl smirks, both about Dom and about the compliment he's been paid. 

"So Cal, I'd offer you a drink but there'll be plenty where we're heading. Shall we?" She picks up her evening bag.

Karl knows this game. She's going to punch his buttons all night long, starting with the fact she couldn't give a shit that his particular model of escort comes with its own name brand. He turns and opens the hall door for her.

"What am I hearing?" she quizzes as she wafts past. "North Island? South?" 

"Wellie," he replies, but he has the feeling that she knows there's no difference between the two until one gets down around Dunedin. Besides, Dom must have provided his bio because, what the fuck, he's said all of three words.

"How quaint," she replies. She doesn't bother bringing along a cover-up. She's the type of woman accustomed to a man giving up his dinner jacket if the weather turns.

*

The grand salon of the Tate Modern is where Karl and Cate find themselves a half hour later, in what is known as Turbine Hall. The cavernous concrete space has been completely transformed into a fantasy of enormous hanging globes and potted trees. Spotlights bathe navy and indigo onto the ceiling and along the perimeter walls to mask the great size of the room; pin lights mirror the grandeur of the universe. The evening's guests, here to admire and drop huge sums of money for a children's hospital, are free to wander paths created by suspended walls upon which hang the event's featured artwork by a duo of splashy artists — both surprisingly still living – about whom Karl's done a bit of background reading in case he has to make like he's smart. He and Cate sample and imbibe from the wait staff wandering among the guests with trays of exotic edibles and flutes of champagne. 

Cate knows oodles of people by name and face because she is swooping and air kissing with aplomb. She is gracious to introduce Karl to one and all, not once getting his name right, and he's too aware of which side his bread is buttered on to correct her. She seems to like his occasional proprietary touches – the hand low on her back, fingers light on her elbow – because she tilts ever so slightly towards him whenever they happen. 

A half hour in, and they are walking to the lift that will take them up to a private dinner when they are approached by a good-looking, trim-tuxedoed bloke, who leans in to leave a kiss on Cate's cheek. 

"There you are, my love," she air kisses for the nth time this evening. "I was beginning to think you might have stood us up. Meet Cam."

"Karl," Karl smirks, his hand held out. For a moment, there is something familiar about this fellow, but then it's gone.

"Richard." The voice is deep, the gaze steady, the smile thin. 

Karl always enjoys this moment of initial greeting, the one where the bloke across from him – in this case, a stranger with an exceptional wardrobe and firm handshake – is just a bloke like any other in the room except for the assumption – on good authority – that within an hour or three, they're going to be balls deep in each other and swapping spit. He likes the contrast, the formality versus the buggery. Richard is handsome if reserved, Karl finds, and he's already mentally flossing with images of Richard's well-trimmed beard with a bit of spunk and girly dew clinging to it. Yeah, yeah, it's a good look. His smile grows bigger.

Richard flushes a little before he turns to Cate. "Sorry," he rumbles humourlessly. "I should have called."

 _Oh how cute,_ Karl thinks. _The guy is shy._ He edits his mental image and it just gets dirtier.

Cate bats her hand to dismiss the thought. "Richard's our date," she tells Karl because she hasn't figured out that Karl has figured it out.

Both men smile at one another once again. It's just a hunch, but Karl's pretty sure it will be his ass on the receiving end tonight. Despite his containment, Richard has a certain authority and reticence about him, one that suggests that he'll be deciding what goes where and in whom. Although one never knows until the rubber hits the road. Or arse.

Dinner is a drawn-out affair, but not unpleasantly so, and the pace of it allows the three of them to get the initial pleasantries out of the way so that they can settle into friendly fraternization. All of the guests are being presented with a tasting menu catered by a phalanx of service professionals from one of London's more splendid restaurants, _The Fat Duck._ Each server presents a series of solitary _amuse-bouches_ to each table they service, explaining what they are about to eat, showing how it is to be held, deconstructed, regarded, savoured etcetera, etcetera. Never has so much been made of so little, in Karl's opinion. Each offering has its own wine pairing, barely a mouthful since there were more than thirty individual hors d'oevres to pair, but it's enough to burn any remaining chill from their acquaintance and set the evening on its way. Cate has to take a picture of everything she's going to put into her mouth because a cube of foie gras [on a pin through a wax bowl](http://www.camillesdish.com/2011/09/alinea-pure-food-porn/) above a shimmering sable mousse garnished with a blossom each of violet and sweet woodruff is just too precious. 

"Isn't sable something you wear?" Karl asks as the flash fires, to which Richard just grins and rolls his eyes at the extravagance of it all. "Just give me a burger from _Patty & Bun,_" he answers, and the two of them spontaneously punch knuckles while Cate clucks and reminds them of where they are, even though she's glad to see them relaxed with each other and playing friendly.

By the time the dessert arrives – a Jackson Pollack-esque tableau of dripped and swirled sweetness on a sheet of glass large enough for the three of them to dismantle – they are artfully drunk, and the moneyed among them are ready to write equally decadent amounts for the benefit of distressed children.

"Fuck me, charity gets to be expensive," Cate complains with a happy smile and sucks the chocolate dip on her finger slowly and deeply while both men track it and exhale slowly and deeply at the same time. "Shall we say our goodbyes and make our way?"

Richard and Karl are on their feet in an instant in an effort to be first to pull back Cate's chair. 

"Easy, boys," she smiles as she unfolds herself, "before you blow something, like our cover." She turns and slides by Karl, lingering for a moment breath to breath, studying his lips, his eyes, then moves on and takes Richard's arm. Together, they circle the table, saying goodnight to their companions of the last few hours, Karl in their wake charming the ladies and shoulder pumping the men before he catches up with Richard and Cate at the lift.

The sedan taking them back to their hotel is large by European standards, and they fill the back seat comfortably. "The Connaught," Richard tells the driver. Apparently, thirty courses and a chunk of money constitutes foreplay. The car has barely inched from the curb before Cate has turned and swallowed Karl's tongue whole, her free hand reshaping how his balls should fit his trousers. Karl promptly repositions, turning towards her, his leg up to give her more play, one arm over the seat back behind her, mouth-pressing her back against it while his palm finds a happy home on her rib cage. He silently curses the sequins because he's sure that if he were to start stroking her the way he wants to, they would fly like fish scales all over the upholstery. His eyes travel to Richard, who has settled against the door panel to watch, his gaze hooded and dark, his lips pressed fractionally into a smile.

Karl lifts his lips from Cate's. "Yeah?" he challenges Richard because Karl hasn't been able to figure the guy out yet, not with any certainty. Maybe he's the type of fellow who likes watching his woman make out with another man. Or maybe she's destined to be the peahen heating up on the spit of their cocks, where the two of them will watch each other get off but never the twain shall meet. Which would be a real shame, Karl thinks. 

Richard's chin jerks up incrementally, his eyes hungry. 

_Brilliant, mate,_ Karl thinks. _Let's see what game you've got inside that fancy tux._

He abandons the sequins and curls his hand behind Richard's neck, pulling him in. He doesn't fail to notice how willingly Richard comes either. They tilt and fit open-mouthed, but unlike Cate's voracious appetite, Richard's kiss is downright elegant – slow and supple and mature, like he's channeling Heathcliff or some other Brontë wet dream. It's a pleasant surprise, totally romantic, and Karl orders himself to surrender.

"Oh my gaaaawwd, you two are _perfect,_ " Cate gasps, her face inches away, gazing in wonder as if they were candy in a shop window, which they probably are, to Cate. "I knew I should have worn knickers. I am going to simply slide out of this dress."

Karl whines as Richard stops and turns to her, all concentration wiped clean by thoughts of wet pussy. He falls upon her mouth, tongue first, and it's Karl who finds himself with his nose against the metaphorical glass window. He makes do by running his fingers lightly up either side of Richard's cock, the fine silk of suit trousers cool against his fingertips. Richard groans into Cate's mouth and jerks, and Cate's hand falls onto Karl's forearm, encouraging him to keep doing whatever it is he's doing.

It is just as well that The Connaught is in Mayfair and thus centrally located. Any more than the ten minutes it takes for the taxi to get there would leave the three of them hard-pressed – accent on the 'hard' – to disengage from what they have started. They manage to make do, however, leaving Richard to settle the fare while Karl and Cate spill out of the vehicle. By the time they migrate together in the foyer of the hotel, they are once again specimens of decorum and disinterest: Cate all haute couture louche, Karl being urbanely 007, and Richard content to simply reek Old Money. 

They move as a unit towards the lifts, no one speaking, no one touching, no one paying the other much attention at all. The arriving elevator carriage dings and its doors draw open; they enter and the doors whisper closed. For perhaps two seconds, just enough for the lift to start its upward climb, they are motionless. Then Cate and Richard turn and crash together with such intensity – a storm of female want breaking on the rocks of male hunger – that Karl actually takes one speechless step back with raised brows, hand still in his trouser pocket. Richard and Cate execute a dishevelled, frantic pirouette to manoeuvre towards him, and by the 4th floor, they've managed to latch onto him like sucker fish, just in time for the elevator doors to open upon an empty hallway. Once more, they disengage with propriety, Cate gliding down the hallway with the men in her wake, Richard stepping forward at the door to take the card from her hand so that he might enter first. 

A bedside lamp is on inside the room, the bed linens turned back. Cate removes her hair pin and tucks it inside her purse before tossing it onto the hall table. She walks out of her shoes and stands facing the room. Richard turns back towards her, reaching with one hand to cradle her cheek. He looks past her shoulder to Karl. 

Karl moves behind Cate and slowly unzips the dress he had so thoughtfully fastened a few hours earlier. His hands skate up to her shoulders, lifting the fabric and sliding it forward so that it slithers down her body, the sequins settling with a soft weighted rustle at her feet, leaving her completely naked. His lips close lightly where her shoulder meets her neck and she arches towards him. Richard moves closer, his mouth atop one rounded point of collar bone, sucking gently, releasing, downwards until he arrives at her nipple. Karl watches over her shoulder, kissing her temple, hands slipping around her waist.

"Get undressed," she breathes in his direction, her hand threading through Richard's hair. Her chin lifts towards the foot of the bed. "Right there where I can watch you."

Karl walks around her, his eyes on hers, removing his jacket and draping it over the parson's chair against the bedroom wall. He pulls his bow tie free and undoes the shirt buttons with a single hand, never breaking eye contact. Cuff links and the rest of his wardrobe follow, all done with hands slowly touching himself, as she would do if she weren't momentarily indisposed. 

"On the bed," she tells him, eyes devouring. 

Karl strips the coverlet onto the floor and pulls the top linens to the foot of the bed before crawling onto the sheet. He kneels there for a moment, palms turned out in question. 

"Lie down, feet closest to me," Cate says. She hooks a fistful of Richard's hair and tugs, looking down at him latched to her breast, tilting her head with an admonishing smile as if he were being terribly naughty. He releases her, grinning, and straightens up, slipping behind her so that he might collect her into his arms, her back against his chest, her pale ivory skin framed by his tuxedo. They both look at Karl. 

"What do you fancy doing first?" Richard asks. "Sink onto him? Suck him hard?"

"There'll be nothing to sink onto, my love, if I don't give him a bit of a blow," she answers.

"This is true."

"And what's on your wish list?" she asks him. "A little me? A little him?"

"You're so beautiful tonight," he sighs, "I'd rather it is your face I see when I come."

"You have such a way with words," she says fervently, for his fingers have found their way deep inside her, wet and curling into that spot that makes her itch for fulfillment. "Use your thumb," she whispers, and he does, rolling her clitoris lightly. "You," she says to Karl. "Lie there and pull your cock for me."

Eyes on Cate, Karl licks his left hand and lets it drift down to his cock, giving it a long, easy stroke.

"Nice and slow, that's right. I'm truly hoping that you're able to deliver on that promise," Cate teases, nodding at the ampleness of his member. 

"No complaints to date," Karl tells her.

"Well, buggering boys is a little different, isn't it." Cate gasps as Richard's hands roam within her and over her breasts, his lips at her jaw, her cheek, her temple. "I suspect they are simply grateful to have such a handsome, strapping fellow put it to them or bow to their whims." A small spasm eclipses her words as her eyes close and she grunts softly.

"I felt that," Richard murmurs, his fingers curling within her before being withdrawn. "How about we find a few more?" He brings his thumb to Cate's lips, the scent of her spilling over both of them, and she mouths it wetly before he returns his hand to slide back into her and ruffle her clit. 

"Oh God," she cries, folding forward before his free arm draws her back against him. She lifts a foot to the edge of the bed so that she can spread more, which allows Karl a better view of Richard's fingers working her. No lube needed there; Karl can see that plain enough.

"I feel every little tug," Richard rumbles against her cheek. "I know you want more than my fingers, though. I know which part of me you really want, skewering you so that your sweet cunt can squeeze it and draw it into your forbidden heat. My darling, I _know._ "

"Oh God," Cate cries, the heat beneath his thumb building, his fingers within her spreading so that that the resistance is greater. "Don't stop, don't stop."

"I never do," Richard whispers. 

Karl has a decent view for when her orgasm finally breaks upon the shoals of his knuckles. Richard looks like he knows how to show a girl a good time, and Karl's more than anticipating that he knows how to show a boy a good one too. Richard keeps his thumb circling so that Cate can ride her climax all the way through, but Karl can see the how her muscles clench and release around the fingers within her. He looks up and sees Richard watching him, a small smile curling one edge of his mouth.

"Looking forward to making that acquaintance?" Richard asks.

"Oh yeah," Karl nods. 

Cate's hands slide to Richard's clothed arm, the one holding her tight against him. "Oh baby," she smiles before repeating it. He kisses her temple and removes his fingers. "Here," he says, moving her towards the bed so that she might rest and excusing himself to go into the bathroom.

Cate unfurls herself beside Karl so that he can draw her close. Her hand slides onto his chest, finding a nipple while she stretches towards him for a kiss.

 _"I_ wanted to be the one who made you come," Karl tells her with a good-natured pout. 

"Well, there's more where that came from," Cate tells him. "You'll have your chance." She runs her hand down his chest and closes it around his semi-hard cock. "You need to catch up," she says, winding down his body. "Don't touch my hair," she warns before taking him deep into her throat. Karl groans and arches, eyes on the ceiling and hands hovering above her head because he really, really would love to hold her right there. 

Richard returns from the bathroom, discarding the towel he's used to wipe his hand. He removes his jacket, watching Cate as she fellates Karl, saying nothing before his eyes lock onto Karl's. He unfastens his bow tie and draws out his shirt tails, unbuttoning all the way. His chest is toned and bronzed and matted, and as he walks to the far side of the bed, Karl arches his neck to follow him. Richard stops, standing directly behind him, and unclips his trousers, opening the fly. He toes his shoes off, doesn't bother with the stockings, and steps out of his trousers, laying them over the arm of a nearby chair. His briefs follow. He turns back to Karl, standing directly behind him.

"Cate," he says. "I need to move his head back."

She pulls off, kneeling back and taking Karl in hand. "He's ripening up nicely," she tells Richard, and their pattern of speaking around him like he's the hired help is a little off putting, even if he is. 

"Shift back," Richard tells Karl, hands under his back to help him. "Relax your neck."

Karl gets it now. _He's_ to be the peacock roasting between the handles of their ardor. 

"Perfect," Richard tells him, and he inches his thighs apart to straddle Karl's face. His cock has swelled a little but not enough to keep from tickling Karl's chin and throat, so he takes himself in hand, stroking upward as he pitches forward to plant one hand beside Karl's waist and deposit his scrotum in Karl's face. "If you'd be so kind," he says.

Given that Karl is wearing the guy's thighs as ear muffs while about to dine on his denuded bollock, Richard's lapse to Oxford breeding is one for the ages, as far as Karl is concerned. He shows his kindness by gripping Richard's thighs to move him into position and gently sucking one side of his sack onto his rolling tongue. 

"Fucking brilliant," Richard sighs, shoulders and head dropping. 

Cate pulls off Karl, pushing forward to tangle the taste of his cock with Richard's tongue, and Karl can glimpse what's going on. He wonders if he has permission to stick a finger up Richard's ass. He figures he'll only know by trying and wets his middle finger along with Richard's left bullock before affecting a probe. 

At the very least, he's expecting a little resistance, but Richard appears to be entirely satisfied, moaning into Cate's mouth when Karl curls his finger and rocking onto a second one that Karl adds, balls swiping against Karl's flattened tongue. By now, Cate has both Richard and Karl in hand. Karl suspects this whole configuration won't last much longer; there's a certain aspect to the profile of Richard's private parts that shouts of the need to sink into something. 

Right on cue, Richard pulls away from Cate and Karl. While he loses his socks and shirt, Cate reaches into the night table for a bottle of lubricant and a lipstick vibrator that have been waiting there next to the Gideon's. Tossing the vibrator onto the bed, she lubes both hands and settles back between Karl's legs, lifting one over her waist so that she can sink two fingers into him while taking him back into her mouth. Karl grunts and tips his head back.

"That's it," Richard says, liking Karl's new angle. "Keep it wide." He straddles Karl's head again, slowly feeding him his cock, taking his time so that Karl can sort out his windpipe and breathing requirements. "Let me know when you're ready."

Karl grabs hold of Richard just below his butt cheeks, tugging him forward to let him know he can move. It's not Karl's favorite position, being nostril blocked by a pair of balls with a puckered arsehole in the viewfinder, but it pays the bills. Between the two of them, he's pretty much along for every ride they are going to give him. 

"Oh fuuuck," Richard sighs, hands coming to rest lightly on Karl's forearms. "That's nice, mate." 

There are all kinds of arousal points flaring within Karl – his ass, Richard's fingers now on his tits, cock, balls, smell, taste, sound, touch. He has most certainly caught up, and so he is more than ready when Cate stops fellating him and straddles his hips, taking him in hand and swiftly sinking onto him. She picks up the lipstick vibrator and flips it on, sliding the head over one of Karl's nipples. When he jerks, she laughs.

Richard admonishes her with a raised eyebrow. "You are being reckless, Cate," he says "and completely uncaring. That is exactly how one man might accidentally bite another's cock." 

"Not Cal," she soothes, bending to lick the affronted nipple. "Cal's a seasoned professional in the art of bed play, aren't you, my love?" She hunkers down over his chest so that she can study Richard's cock as it disappears into Karl's opened mouth. "Amazing," she says with some awe, her hand closing lightly over the workings of Karl's throat. She looks up at Richard. "Does he put me to shame, my darling?" 

"No one can put you to shame," Richard replies. 

She turns on the vibrator once more and rests the side of it just at the root of his cock, where he tries to twist away before getting used to the intensity. She slides it to the base of his balls and tilts her head up to bite down softly on one of his nipples.

Richard utters a broken string of noise as his eyes flash open and his cock thumps within Karl's lips. "Jesus," he breathes and locks his hand on Cate's wrist. "Enough of that thing." 

She sits up, pouting. "If you insist," she says, sliding the vibrator down to her clit. "Oh God," she groans, and Richard reaches for her, thumbs caressing circles over her tightened nipples. 

Now that she has put the vibrator to herself, Cate clamps down and then opens like a morning glory, grinding away as if she can't get Karl fully enough, deep enough, hard enough. He lets go of Richard's thighs and blindly grabs her waist, pinning her to his pelvis while she screws herself silly on the axis of his cock. The vibrator has turned her insides into a hive of activity that quiver, throb and clench all around him. She's been perched on the edge since her last orgasm, probably since puberty, Karl figures, and it takes no time for the walls of her vagina to tense before breaking in at least a dozen waves from the head to the root of his cock. It's a nice feeling for Karl, the soft beat of a woman's sex; he hasn't enjoyed it in a long time. He grunts a little to communicate his appreciation.

"Richard, my love," Cate sighs, leaning forward into his arms as if it was his cock she'd been fucking. "That was beyond divine. Cleared all the cobwebs." She crawls off Karl and collapses against the pillowed headboard. 

Richard has extracted himself gingerly with a companionable squeeze to Karl's shoulder as it were bloody decent of Karl to help two mates out. Karl nods once in acknowledgment, his hand coming up to his face as he flexes his jaw.

"Poor Cal," Cate commiserates, rolling towards him so that she can drape herself across his chest. "Your lips must be rubbed raw." She dips down and licks across the bottom one tenderly. "He's a brute, isn't he? Big piece like that, he should be careful where he puts it. Isn't that right, Richard?" She dips down, licking along Karl's jaw line.

"I was careful," Richard says quietly. He walks over to the desk and uncaps a water bottle before draining half of it. He hands what's left to Karl. 

Not for the first time, Karl thinks that Richard must spend the better part of his days fighting off the force of Cate's personality. As far as he's concerned, she would eat both of them alive if they let her. 

_"This,"_ Cate says, reaching down to stroke Karl's sticky erection, "doesn't seem to have lost any of its appetite. I must say, it is hard to fuck a man when one can't see the whites of his eyes. How be we give it another go?"

Obviously, when she decides to eat him alive, she won't be using her mouth.

"I shouldn't have any trouble finding that address," he quips smoothly.

Cate gives him her most dazzling smile. Then, without a word, she rolls away from him and climbs off the bed. Whether gowned or stark naked, her movements are distractingly lithesome, and Karl follows her as she glides up to Richard and rubs full frontal against him, his erection caught against her belly, her arms draped about his shoulders. She gazes hungrily at his mouth. "You _feel_ ready, my love. Are you?"

"Yes," he whispers. Karl doesn't know if it's because he can read men better, but Richard appears to be the one bringing the bulk of emotion to the proceedings. With Cate, it's hard to tell north from south. 

Cate untangles from their embrace. "Get up," she tells Karl, tapping him on the thigh. She crawls onto the bed in his place and flips onto her back in front of Richard, propped on her arms with legs opened wide and eyes locked on his. "All right, Cal," she says, holding Richard's gaze. "Don't keep a girl waiting." 

Karl thinks he has figured where he'll fit in the jigsaw, but as he stands at the foot of the bed before Cate, he looks over his shoulder and says to Richard, "Have I got it right?" 

Richard steps up behind him and reaches around, taking Karl by the cock and stroking upwards. His hands are large and now well-lubed. "Yeah," he replies, the stroke slow, pressure just right, his other hand rolling and greasing Karl's balls.

Karl sighs, keeping his head turned in case Richard wants a kiss. "That's really nice, mate."

But Richard is more interested in Cate. He keeps his eyes on her while he mouths Karl's temple, his cheekbone. He tells Karl to lean forward so that he can get him ready, and when his hand releases Karl's cock, Cate is there to take over. 

It's obvious to Karl that these two have a routine when it comes to threesomes. There is no fumbling or guesswork. It's less playful and exploratory than NASA-engineered, and Karl wonders if this is one way the rich and bored keep the fires burning in their relationships. Richard's well-greased fingers skate up his crease and enter him with utter confidence and without announcement. Karl closes around him tightly and exhales.

Cate sits further forward as she strokes Karl. With eyes still on Richard, she says in Karl's ear, "I want you in me as soon as he's in you, Cal. I want to feel your thick piece splitting me." She smiles at Richard.

Karl can feel the blast of Richard's breath on his shoulder. Whatever the two of them brought to these proceedings, she's dialing Richard's number soundly, and Karl steels himself for whatever reciprocity he expects will be coming his way. It doesn't happen though. Or rather, if having his hips gripped by large hands while being slid into slowly with the utmost attention to nailing his prostate could be considered payback, then all he wants to say is bring it on. The man at his back is sexy stuff, whether this is a whore's night out or not. _To hell with the girl,_ Karl thinks. There's nothing like a man who knows his way around another man. He drops his head and groans.

"Is he being good to you, Cal?" Cate coos while she strokes him. "You're a lucky bastard tonight." She tips Karl's chin up with her free hand, ascending to his mouth and tonguing him as slowly as Richard is carving out behind him. Jesus Christ. 

Richard has an inch or more on him in terms of height, and he's got the physical presence and patience that comes with being a mature man, the solidness and sureness. He certainly shows that he knows what he wants, what others want, how they want it, when and where, all the bases covered. _Is begging allowed?_ Karl wonders as he's pulled back onto Richard's precisely-placed cock. He wants nothing more than to feel the entirety of the man all down his back until they pack him up and send him home sometime in the morning. "Any way you can get yourself down here, mate?" Karl asks. "You feel amazing."

Richard slows for a moment, then slides one arm low across Karl's abdomen to hold him on his cock and curls forward. "Onto the bed," he says, "but stay with me so I don't lose you." 

Somehow they move, and somehow Cate gets brought into the linkage, angling herself beneath Karl's pelvis so that the next push from Richard takes Karl right into her heat. "There you go, baby," she tells him and Karl's hips kick into her with no help from his brain.

They rock and piston slowly for a while as they sort out how each of them can get maximum pleasure, Richard reaching around Karl to touch Cate's face and neck and breast, Karl with a hand around her hips, sort of on their sides, sort of on each other, morphing and moving in response to every little hint and moan and plea that indicates that this angle or that position feels really good. It's quiet – slippery, slurpy quiet – and what is rather interesting to Karl is that even though he is the orgasmic barometer as far as measuring the changes in cunt and cock, both Richard and Cate seem to have it figured out how to come at the same time without any distraction from him. She begins to caterwaul – no surprise there, just in case anyone should miss the fact – her eyes on Richard, his name on her lips. "Catie," Richard cries softly as he comes, pushing up and past Karl so that he can bury his head against her throat, and she croons to him a few _baby, babys._ If it weren't for the fact that Karl's plugged into them front and back, he'd tell them to get a room except, of course, they have and he's figuring largely in it, as the little wing beats within his ass and around his cock keep reminding him. 

Richard pulls out of him, and he out of Cate, and the three of them lie with limbs overlapping, Richard's arm still across Karl as he strokes Cate's cheek. For a time, no one says anything about anything, certainly not about the white elephant in the room which is, as far as Karl's considered, his sizable erection. He supposes this will be one of those beat-it-off-in-the-loo denouements. 

He is pleasantly surprised, therefore, when Richard's hand slips from Cate's cheek and across her breast, descending down to close around Karl's cock, the grip tight, the pull long. Richard curls behind him, his other arm beneath Karl's head. "Did you think we'd leave you behind?" Richard smiles into his ear. "You've been an excellent date, Karl. We may even have to do this again. Now, should that happen, think about who you want to be inside when you come."

Karl can come at the drop of a hat when certain thoughts and images align correctly. He considers it a skill much as an actor welling up on cue if a scene called for tears. So at Richard's suggestion, he erupts with gusto into Cate's mouth which she has so kindly slipped over the head of his cock. 

Bloody hell, but they are a considerate pair.

* 

"Champagne," Cate moans from where she's been slumbering within Richard's arms, rolling over so that the back of her hand thwaps Karl's back. "My mouth is a garage. We need champagne."

Before Karl can think about moving, he feels the far side of the bed jiggle and cracks open one eye to watch Richard throw back the sheet he had drawn over the three of them and get up. He pads naked to the sitting room, returning with three flutes and the magnum that has been chilling since before they came in. Karl hears the pop, Cate's giggle, and the smooth hiss as the three glasses are filled. He rolls over, running his hand over his face, and sits up next to Cate along the headboard, taking his glass when Richard passes it. 

"To my sweet sister," Richard proposes, raising his glass as Cate smiles coyly.

*

"They were fucking SIBLINGS!" Karl bursts into his mobile from the back of his taxi en route to the airport the next afternoon. 

"Ooo," Dom frowns with a smirk at the other end. "That's a bit out there. I suppose it would be more accurate to say they were siblings fucking."

"Noooo!" Karl exclaims, his sexual sensibilities still in a dither, ironically enough. "Because I was the cock he wouldn't put in her!"

"Interesting. Then I guess it's technically not incest." 

"Yeeees!" Karl exclaims still further. "It _is,_ by surrogate! It _fucking_ is! Am I not right, mate?" he adds to the cab driver who has the sense to not even glance in the rear view mirror. 

"I suppose a legal argument could be made," Dom muses, tongue firmly in cheek.

"Jeezuz, you might have let on beforehand."

"I didn't know," Dom says. "It wasn't part of the disclosure. And besides, would it have changed anything? It's what we do, mate, take care of the masses. For four figures."

Karl looks out at the people and buildings zipping by. Eight thousand Euros for a night keeping apart two people who wanted nothing more than to crawl into each other's skin but who have ninety-nine point nine percent of human history telling them they couldn't and shouldn't. On one hand, here is a woman who'd hire a whore to avoid-but-not-avoid sleeping with her brother. On the other hand, here is a man who'd switch teams to fuck a guy just so he could wear that guy as a condom while he fucked his sister. The more Karl thinks about it, the more he discovers there are just too many twists in the bizarre plot of their story.

"Jesus, the things we see and do," he says abstractly.

"So for the record, are you reporting this as a complaint?" Dom asks because business protocol demands it. 

"No," Karl says emphatically. As far as he's concerned, these two were harmless if a little creepy. He'd even do them again if they asked. Better still if they could ditch the sweet sister. 

"Does Richard have a brother by any chance?" he casually asks. 

With a puzzled frown, he pulls the phone from his ear and finally kills the call when Dom won't stop laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> _Author's aside: Richard attended a party that Karl was also at in a previous Beguilement story, The Present, which is why, when they meet in this story, Karl felt there was something familiar about him._


End file.
